


Changing of the Guard

by Zara_Zee



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, M/M, References to Homophobia, References to loss of loved ones, Soulmates, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3145616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen hasn’t had a real home since he was six years old. No-one ever wants him to stick around. Not once they get to know him. Jensen is short term. Temporary. Always being asked to move on.  His latest break up sees him drift into Iowa, where he gets a job as a farmhand.<br/>Misha calls the Royal Court home. He’s well-dressed and sophisticated and the very last thing he wants is to be assigned guard duty at the ass-end of the world; AKA a farm in Iowa. Mud. Animals. Excrement. Really not his thing.<br/>Also? Misha is a fairy. And that incredibly hot farmhand really shouldn’t be able to see him…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I have borrowed the names and faces of certain actors without their knowledge or approval. Said actors belong to themselves and I have merely cast them in my fiction. Not a word of this is true; I’ve just got them playing parts. 
> 
> **A/N:** I don’t personally feel comfortable casting non-actors in my fictional dramas so any family members you see are strictly OCs. Also, Marshallville is a fictional small farming town in Iowa.

## Part One

Jensen’s alarm clock doesn’t wake him up, because the loud, obnoxious crowing of a rooster roused him from his sleep half an hour ago. He’s been lying awake staring up at a crack in the ceiling ever since, wondering if he’s finally gotten some good luck or if this too is going to go to shit like most things in his life do.

Larry and Brenda Brown seem nice enough, but if the last thirteen years have taught him anything, it’s that people are two-face lying assholes and that when push comes to shove, you never really know anyone. 

The room that Jensen is sleeping in belongs to Larry and Brenda’s eldest son, Michael, who’s thirty now, and married, with a little girl. He’s a marketing executive who lives in California and has no interest in the family farm.

Michael’s football trophies still stand, carefully dusted, on the top ledge of his bookshelf. He has an interesting collection of books; Kurt Vonnegut, Frank Herbert, Anne McCaffrey, Ursula Le Guin, George Orwell; and there are still a couple of Nirvana and Guns ‘n’ Roses posters up on the walls. So a jock, but a smart one, with decent taste in music; who lit out of Iowa for UCLA the second he graduated high school and never looked back.

The Brown’s younger son (Gary), Jensen learned last night over supper, joined the Marines the day he turned eighteen, and was killed in Operation Desert Storm a week after his twenty-first birthday. His bedroom is a shrine; Brenda showed it to him last night and then said he wasn’t to so much as breathe on the door handle.

Larry and Brenda used to raise corn, but as they’ve gotten older, they’ve sold off the farm, bit by bit, until all they have left now is ten acres, on which they have free-range laying hens and a dozen goats that they use for milk and making cheese. Larry also has a business on the side, cutting and baling hay for other, larger farms as well as delivering hay to cattle farmers; which is how Jensen met him.

Just over a week ago, Jensen had been living in Des Moines and working at a factory that made fiberglass molds. It wasn’t the most exciting work he’d ever done, but at least it meant he could pay his half of the rent and bills. The other half was paid by his boyfriend, Brent, who Jensen had met at a Club seven months earlier.  Jensen had just arrived in town and was staying in The Starlight Motel, a dirt cheap place where most of his neighbors were in and out of their rooms in under an hour. Brent inviting him to stay at his place was a Godsend. The man was easy on the eyes and good enough in bed that his voracious sexual appetite wasn’t a chore; and he started calling Jensen his boyfriend in less than a month. Brent was five years older than Jensen and worked in insurance and Jensen had been completely blindsided when he’d gotten home one night to an ‘I don’t think this is working out’ speech. Apparently he wasn’t _ambitious_ enough for Brent and the fact that he was ‘a fucking gorgeous twink’ who ‘took it up the ass like a pro’ didn’t make up for the fact that Jensen was a blue collar nobody from nowhere and if Brent was going to climb the corporate ladder, then he needed to be with somebody who _was_ somebody. No offense.

Jensen packed up his stuff (there wasn’t much; it all fit into a backpack and a duffel bag) and moved back into The Starlight Motel.  He handed in his notice at work the next day and a week later he fronted up to the Greyhound depot and took the next bus out of town that was in his price range; which happened to be going to Chicago.

The bus had a fifteen minute stop in Marshallville and that was where fate had intervened. Jensen hauled his bags off the bus with him, because everything he owned was in those bags and he wasn’t letting them out of his sight. He went into McDonald’s to use the restroom and walked in on two guys about his own age, beating up a third guy who was on the floor with his arms wrapped around his head, crying.

“Walk away man,” one of the attackers said to Jensen.

It would’ve been the smart thing to do, but Jensen couldn’t do it. He’d heard the slurs the men were spitting at the guy on the floor; had been in his place before; and knew it would eat at him if he didn’t try to help.

He opened the restroom door and the thugs relaxed slightly. “Someone call 911,” Jensen called out, “there’s a guy getting beaten up in here.”

The attackers fled when the McDonald’s duty manager came to see what was going on and Jensen sat with the victim—Warren—until by the police arrived and took both of their statements. By the time the cops took Warren to the hospital, the bus to Chicago had long since gone, so Jensen checked into the local Super 8 and figured he’d stick around for a while; the cops had mentioned that they might need him again if the assault went to court and they hadn’t been happy that he currently had no fixed address. Jensen figured that here was as good a place as any to stay for a while. It was harvest time and some of the surrounding farms were bound to be looking for laborers.  Jensen had some experience with farm work; he’d been living with the Taylors in Oklahoma during Grade 5 and 6, and they’d had a wheat farm.   

 

Jensen sighs and throws back the Iowa Hawkeyes quilt cover.  The wooden floor is cold on his feet and he puts on a pair of thick woollen socks first, before dressing quickly in sturdy dark blue jeans, a grey Henley and a red-and-white checked over-shirt. He digs the Stetson that used to belong to his dad out of the bottom of his backpack and bends it back into shape, carrying it with him out of the bedroom. He stops by the bathroom, brushes his teeth and washes his hands and face before joining Brenda and Larry in the kitchen.

The farmhouse is over 150 years old, Jensen learnt last night, and it’s been refurbished several times. They did a great job with the kitchen, in his opinion. The cupboards and shelves are all a warm hardwood and the big black wrought iron oven and cooktop nestles nicely into the cavity where there was once a wood-burning hob.  They even kept the mantelpiece and brickwork so that it gives the impression of still being a fireplace.  

Larry is sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper, a cup of coffee steaming beside him. Brenda turns to greet him from where she’s hovering over the stove with a spatula in hand. She’s a heavyset woman, big boned and strong, and Jensen got the very distinct impression when Larry turned up yesterday with Jensen in tow, that Brenda was delighted to have a new audience for her gossip, because the woman sure does like to talk. Her husband, in contrast, is the taciturn type. He’s a little shorter than his wife, wiry and muscular with weathered, tanned skin and a droopy grey moustache.  He acknowledges Jensen’s presence with a brief head nod and an approving smile at the Stetson, leaving his wife to greet him enthusiastically and usher him to a seat, asking Jensen how he slept and generally fussing around him like no-one’s done in a long while. Physically, she’s nothing like Karen Taylor, but she has the same kindness in her eyes and Jensen has to take a steadying breath because no-one ever told him how long Karen survived after the powers-that-be (and Frank too, probably; he hadn’t coped well with his wife’s illness) decided it would be best for everyone if they found him a new foster family. For all he knows she went into remission and is living happily down in Oklahoma with a new foster kid. Not knowing feels like unfinished business and it still kind of hurts. 

Jensen accepts a strongly brewed coffee and a serving of bacon, eggs, sausage and toast.  While they eat, Larry runs over the tasks he’s going to want Jensen to take care of while he’s out delivering hay to a cattle farmer two counties over.

“I’ll walk you through everythin’ before I head out,” Larry says.

Breakfast finished, they push away from the table. Brenda refuses Jensen’s offer to help with the dishes, telling him he’s got plenty of work to be getting on with. Larry casts a critical eye over Jensen’s outfit. He seems to approve of his jeans, which are the durable, hard wearing type, not the fashionable type that fall apart in six months.  

“Got a pair of shit-kickers?” he asks.

Jensen doesn’t. He only has the one pair of boots and while they’re certainly old and not much to look at, he’s not keen to ruin them completely.  Larry tsks and disappears out into the storm porch. He’s back before Jensen can do much more than scratch his head uncomfortably and wonder whether he’s supposed to be following the older man.

“Here,” Larry thrusts a pair of black boots at him. “They were Gary’s,” he shoots a defiant look at his wife. “Oughta fit.”

Jensen takes the boots, but he has enough experience with grief to know that he needs to tread carefully here, so he looks for Brenda’s nod before sitting down and pulling them on. They’re a good fit and Jensen wonders what it means—if it means anything—that he has stepped so easily into a dead man’s boots.

Larry nods, satisfied. “There’s a spare pair of Muck boots out in the stable that oughta do you too,” he says.

Brenda hands Jensen a small bowl of cream and Larry harrumphs and stomps back out into the storm porch.  “Here,” she doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Larry will show you where to put it.”

‘Where to put it’ is behind the barn where the hens roost, right beside a small ring of mushrooms. 

“You got a cat, huh?” Jensen says, but Larry just rolls his eyes and leads the way into the barn and after that Jensen is too busy learning the ropes and then doing his job to wonder any more about the cat.

By the time Brenda calls him for lunch at midday Jensen has fed the chickens and let them outside to roam freely, fed the goats and let them out into the top paddock, fed the horses and let them out into the bottom paddock, mucked out the barns and the stables, collected the eggs and filled the water troughs. It’s been a while since he did this much physical labor and he’s missed it. The weather’s cool—no more than mid-fifties if his guess is accurate—but the work keeps him warm.

Lunch is sandwiches and hot apple pie and Brenda tells him all about her women’s ten pin bowling team and how they were runners up in the regional championships and how she used to be a nurse until she married Larry and does Jensen have any brothers and sisters?

It shouldn’t be a hard question and yet his response gets stuck in his throat because for the first time in a long while he wants to answer truthfully instead of giving his standard negative response.

Brenda reaches out and puts a hand over his and Jensen raises his head and looks up at her.  “I’m sorry,” she says gently and Jensen knows she can see something of the answer in his eyes.

He attempts a shrug. “It was a long time ago,” he says, throat raw and voice husky.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Brenda asks.

He really doesn’t. He didn’t just lose his siblings that day, he lost his entire family. All it took for Jensen’s life to descend into horror was a doddery old man pulling his ‘75 Buick out into oncoming traffic without looking.  But. He’s spent the day walking around in Brenda’s dead son’s boots so he feels he owes her something.

“I lost everyone,” he says. “Mom and Dad. Both my little sisters. I was at a friend’s birthday party,” he gives a short bark of laughter. “I still get sick whenever I see or smell chocolate cake.”

The hand that isn’t over his is now fluttering in front of Brenda’s mouth and her eyes are filled with tears. “Dear Lord,” she says. “How old were you?”

When Jensen tells her that he was six, her tears start to fall and he pulls away and stands up. “You want a coffee? How about I put a pot of coffee on?” 

She nods and he moves to the bench and fills the carafe with water, before getting out the ground coffee and a scoop. Brenda is obviously trying to pull herself together so he casts about for something to say, to distract her. “Hey, what’s the cat’s name?” he asks. “I put the cream out for it this morning, but I haven’t seen it yet. I know it was around, though because when I looked later the cream had gone.”

Brenda is looking at him with an odd expression on her face. “We don’t have a cat,” she says. “The cream is for the fairies.”

Jensen is pretty sure that Brenda said the cream was for the fairies. Just to be sure he asks her to repeat what she said, as though he hadn’t heard her properly.

“The fairies,” she says. “The cream is for the fairies.”

Maybe it’s a slang expression for some kind of local critter. Jensen nods. “Fairies?” he repeats. “As in…?”

“Fairies,” Brenda replies gravely. “The wee folk. Enchanted beings with wings.”

“Oh,” Jensen says. Damn. Brenda had seemed so nice. And sane.

“That’s good, I guess,” he says faintly, “because cats are lactose intolerant so you shouldn’t really give them cream. I didn’t want to say anything, but…” he trails off and then busies himself making the coffee.

Behind him, Brenda chuckles. “You think I’m crazy,” she says. “That’s okay. You’ll either learn the truth or you won’t and it doesn’t much matter either way. In the meantime, just humor a poor old woman. The cream is a respectful offering. If we don’t make it, the Fae will make their displeasure known with a lot of really annoying mischief.”

 

Later that afternoon, once Jensen has convinced Brenda that he knows how to ride, she lets him saddle up Black Betty, a sweet-tempered black mare, to ride the boundary fences. He tethers her to a fence post while he checks the vegetable patch and pulls a few weeds. Once that’s done it’s time to put the horses back in the stable and the goats back in the barn and then he spends a ridiculous amount of time trying to shoo all the hens back inside their barn. They’re not keen to go, and squawk and run and flap their clipped wings. Brenda comes out to help. She spent most of the day making cheese and pickling vegetables. 

As the two of them chase the hens back into the barn, Jensen doesn’t remember the last time he laughed so much. If the other shoe, so to speak, is that Brenda believes in fairies, then Jensen figures that’s a small price to pay.

 

The next few days pass much the same as the first one. On the second morning, as Jensen heads out of the house carrying a bowl of cream, Larry clears his throat and claps a hand on his shoulder.

“Brenda told you then? Why she puts the cream out?”

Jensen confirms that she did and Larry asks him what he thinks about it.

Jensen stops walking and turns to face the older man. “Can’t say as I believe in fairies,” he says. “But putting cream out seems harmless enough. And if it keeps Brenda happy,” he shrugs.

Larry’s smile is pleased. “Exactly right,” he says. “She’s a good woman, my Brenda. She has a few…quirky beliefs. But that’s because of her Irish heritage.”

 

On Saturday afternoon Brenda goes bowling.  She takes Jensen with her. He would really have preferred to spend his free time lying on his bed reading one of Michael’s books, but the Browns are sort of insistent that he get out into town and meet some people his own age. Jensen has already met some of the townsfolk who are his age and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Brenda suggests that Jensen might get lucky and meet a nice girl, as though that will definitely by the clincher. He hasn’t mentioned that he’s gay. Too many foster families reacted badly for him to be anything other than cautious about who he tells and when. So Jensen goes with her, because she wants him to and he doesn’t want to be rude.

The Kingpin Bowling Center is licensed and Jensen spends most of his time fetching drinks for the women in Brenda’s team. Once the competition is done, the women hang around to play a bit more, just for fun. When they learn that Jensen has only bowled a couple of times before, they insist on him taking a turn so that they can teach him. They’re a little tipsy and Jensen suspects that a couple of the louder, more raucous women just want an excuse to get their hands on him. Sandy, a 50-something platinum blonde who wears far too much blue eye-shadow spends more time than Jensen is comfortable with positioning his hips.  He tolerates her with as much good humor as he can muster and is grateful when Brenda comes and rescues him with a bottle of Bud Light.  They move away from the bowling lanes and across to a small round plastic bar table. Jensen pulls himself up onto a bar stool, but Brenda opts to stand.

Jensen takes a long swig of his beer and then grins. “This is probably a bad time to tell you I’m only twenty, huh?” he says.

Brenda’s eyebrows shoot up. “Jerry didn’t card you when you were buying drinks for us?”

“Nope. I think he was just relieved he didn’t have to deal with y’all. Some of your ladies are a little flirty.”

Brenda laughs. “That they are,” she purses her lips. “Is that a hint of Texas I hear in your voice?”

“Born and raised…for the first eight years anyway,” Jensen salutes her with his beer.

Brenda takes a sip of her wine and fiddles with the stem of the glass for a moment before asking him why he moved interstate at eight.

“My grandma had a stroke,” he says, matter-of-factly. “She didn’t die. Not right off, anyway, but she couldn’t even feed herself so she had to go into a home. They sent me to live with my other grandparents, my dad’s parents, who lived in Oklahoma.”

Brenda nods. “And you were able to stay with them throughout your childhood?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Let’s just say it didn’t work out,” he says. He hopes she can hear the finality in his tone, hopes she understands that the eight months he spent with his Ackles grandparents are not something he likes to dwell on. While his parents had been alive, they’d never once visited them or had them come stay. Jensen doesn’t even remember his dad talking about them. He thinks he knows, now, why that might have been.  Grandpa Ackles was a sexist, racist homophobe and if he had a point to make, he made it with his fists. Jensen had only been with them for two months when a teacher reported his bruises to Children’s Services. He’d been placed in emergency foster care while his grandparents underwent counselling and training. He was placed back with his grandparents a month later and then alternated between them and several different emergency placements for the next few months, Children’s Services removing him every time his grandfather lost his temper and lashed out and then attempting to reunite him with them. Eventually everyone accepted that it wasn’t going to work; that trying to keep him with family wasn’t worth the trauma and Jensen was put into the system permanently.

 

Over supper that night, Larry tells Jensen that if he ever wants to take the truck and head in to town for a little R ‘n’ R, subject to all his chores being done, and Larry not needing the truck himself, then he is more than welcome to.

“Thanks,” Jensen says. “But, uh. I don’t have a drivers licence.”

Jensen figures that Brenda must’ve updated Larry some on his background, because he merely nods, strokes his moustache and says, “You need someone to teach you?”

Jensen says that he does. By the time he was old enough to drive he’d been in a group home and there’d be no-one willing to teach him.

“Okay,” Larry says. “I guess I can make some time to do that.”

And so it goes. The Browns are kind and easy to live with and they have almost as many abandonment issues as Jensen does, so Jensen doesn’t think they’ll be kicking him out any time soon. Larry teaches him to drive. Jensen goes bowling with Brenda. He takes long rides on Black Betty.

Putting a bowl of cream down for the ‘fairies’ every day really is a small price to pay for finding the closest thing to a family he’s had in a while.

 

Everything in Jensen’s life is going awesomely until the morning he goes to put the cream down and finds a ten inch tall man dressed in a sparkly silver-colored suit and shiny black ballet pumps standing inside the circle of mushrooms. He has vivid blue eyes, a shock of messy dark hair, and shiny blue and silver butterfly wings.

Jensen rocks to a standstill. He stares. He blinks and rubs at his eyes. “What the _fuck_?” he says.  

The little man…fairy (?) rolls his eyes. “Awesome,” he says. “It’s not bad enough that I’ve been sent to the ass end of the world, I’ve gotta cop a blithering idiot host as well.”

“What?” says Jensen. “Who are you calling an idiot?”

The…okay, okay…it is a fairy…freezes, his eyes widening in panic. “You can see me?” he hisses.

Jensen nods.

The fairy’s eyes become improbably large and his wings flutter frantically.

“What the _fuck_?” he says. And promptly vanishes.

“Aha!” Jensen calls out, waving an arm toward the ring of mushrooms. “Who’s the…the blithering idiot now, huh?”

 

## ~X~

 

“Misha!”

Misha squeezes his eyes tightly shut.

“Misha, come on!”

He really wishes that Jared would shut up. Jared is a good kid; for an Earth- _Sídhe_. Floppy-haired with big doe eyes, he is way too tall for a Fae, which is perhaps why Misha likes him so much. He likes people who are different; who don’t fit the mold.

“Inspection’s in five minutes,” Jared says, his voice rising urgently, “and you’re gonna be in so much trouble if you’re not ready by the time the Flight Commander comes in.”

Misha frowns. If he ignores him, then maybe Jared will just go away.

“Misha, please!”

Misha opens his eyes, a tactical error because very few can resist Jared’s mesmer. He is really quite gifted.

Misha climbs out of bed with a sigh and looks around the barracks with disdain. A whole month he’s been here, training. In his opinion, it’s an absolute travesty that a Fae of his _céim_ —a prince of the Royal Court of Aes Sídhe; a great, great, great nephew of Queen Medbh herself, no less—is expected to take a turn at guarding the realm.

Misha makes his bed with a click of his fingers (strictly against regulations, they’re supposed to make them by hand; it’s good for discipline, apparently) and then saunters over to his locker and throws open the doors. In lieu of bathing, he gives himself a good spritz with perfumed water and then he chooses a nice suit to wear for Assignment Day.

Fair enough, he thinks, as he struggles sleepily into his pants, if they’d been training to fight dragons and minor gods. That’s the type of defending the realm he can really get behind. Danger. Excitement. Drama.

But guarding the Fae portals in the mortal realm? Degrading. Boring. Boring. And did he mention boring?

Misha has his shirt on, but hasn’t yet buttoned it up, when Flight Commander Jay Dee flies into the room. Jay Dee is a fearsome bearded warrior, strong, handsome and capable. He’s an Air- _Sídhe_ andMisha has a lot of respect for him; tempered somewhat, it must be admitted, by the rumor that his name is actually _Jeff_.   Misha bites back a snigger at the awful human-sounding name and manages to attract the attention of the man himself.

Jay Dee flies straight at him and then settles on his feet in front of Misha.

“Good morning, Misha,” Jay Dee says, in a deceptively friendly tone.

All the rest of the Fae Guard recruits are fully-dressed and properly groomed, standing at the foot of their beds in perfect parade rest, awaiting inspection. 

Misha continues to button his shirt. “Morning, Sir,” he says.  At the foot of the bed beside his, Jared tenses visibly. Misha grins. No-one can make ‘sir’ sound like an insult the way he can.

“Is there a reason,” Jay Dee says, “why you are not ready for inspection?”

“Yes,” Misha says. “I don’t really do mornings. And you do have a habit of starting out ridiculously early around here.”

Misha relishes the way everyone in the room holds their breath in horror.

Jay Dee just shakes his head and smiles sadly. “Such a child,” he says. Which is completely inaccurate. Misha is 253 years old.

“Alright everybody,” Jay Dee says. “Fall out,” he puts a hand on Misha’s chest. “Not you,” he says.  He conjures a toothbrush and hands it to Misha.

“I have my own toothbrush, thank you,” Misha says.

Jay Dee grins. “Oh that’s not for your teeth,” he says. “It’s for you to clean the floors in the dormitory, and the bathroom too. And no using magic. Don’t think I can’t feel the shimmer of your magic around your bed. If I detect so much as a whiff of it when I come to inspect your work later, I’ll clip your wings and bind your powers for a month,”

Misha’s mouth falls open. He can’t! He wouldn’t! He looks into Jay Dee’s eyes. He so would.

“Do I make myself clear, Misha?”

Misha slumps.  “Yes, sir,” he says, through gritted teeth. He frowns. “But…what about the guard assignments? It’s Assignment Day. We’re supposed to be claiming our preferences today.”

Jay Dee’s smile is nasty. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Misha. I’ve got a special assignment picked out for you.”

Somehow, Misha doubts that he’s going to like it.

 

Misha is part way through the dormitory when Danneel and Genevieve come to visit him.

Danneel is a Water- _Sídhe_ like him and Genevieve is a Fire- _Sídhe_. She’s also a member of the Royal Court like him, although not as high ranking.

The girls flutter annoyingly around his head as he works and tell him all about their assignments. They’ve both been given afternoon shifts—midday until 6.00pm—Danneel in London and Genevieve in Paris. Misha is incredibly jealous, not that he’s going to mention that to the girls. He asks them if the details of his guard assignment have been posted yet, but they don’t know, they didn’t look for his name.

Jay Dee comes to inspect his work not long after he starts on the bathroom. Misha shows him the head of the toothbrush, which is now dirty and dog-eared and Jay Dee refreshes it with a wave of his hand. Misha tries not to scowl.

“So what’s my assignment?” he asks.

Jay Dee shakes his head. “You’ll find out later,” he says.

By the time Misha is two thirds of the way through the bathroom his knees are aching and his fingers are red and swollen. It’s a welcome distraction when Jared, Christian and Steve walk in.

Misha laughed out loud when Christian first told him his name. Fancy a Fae couple naming their child after a human religion! How uncouth. Unfortunately Christian (or Chris as he prefers to be called) is a Fire- _Sídhe_ and Misha had to pull some pretty fast magical moves to avoid being battered and barbecued by Chris’s fire fists of fury. Somehow or other this means that they are now, apparently, friends. Misha still isn’t quite sure how that works.

“Shit, son,” Chris says. “That don’t look fun.”

Misha can’t be bothered to say ‘no shit,’ so he just gives him a withering look.

Chris’s soulmate, Steve, grins at him. “Welcome to my world, Misha,” he says.

Steve is a human. Well. He was a human. Now he’s…something more than human, but less than Fae. Time spent in the Fae Realm changes people and being the bonded soulmate of a Fae changes people even faster and more significantly. Steve now has wings, for example, but he can’t perform magic.

Jared clears his throat. “So we got our assignments,” he says.

Misha looks up and is instantly captured by mesmerising doe eyes. “Dude! Stop it!” he says.

Jared blinks. “Stop what?”

“You’re trying to mesmerize me!”

Jared shakes his head and looks away sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just…I can’t turn it off sometimes. I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”

Misha believes him. Privately, he thinks it’s incredibly fortunate that Jared is a friendly, easy-going, jovial sort of a guy, because with those eyes and his talent for mesmer, if he ever really tried he could have the entire realm on their knees at his feet.

“What did you get?” Misha asks.

“It’s awesome,” Jared says and Misha frowns, because a truly excited Jared isn’t generally this dampened down. “I’m going to be guarding a fairy ring that’s on a farm in Iowa.”

Misha raises an eyebrow. “This is obviously some strange and unusual usage of the word ‘awesome’ that I’m not aware of,” he says.

“No, it’s cool,” Jared says. “For me. I love the land. And crops and animals. Earth- _Sídhe,_ remember?Apparently, they even get moose in Iowa sometimes. I have a natural affinity for moose.”

Misha’s jaw doesn’t quite hit the floor, but it’s a close thing.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Awesome, then. Chris, what did you get?”

“Same gig,” Chris says. “Different shift. He’s on afternoons, I’m on nights and y—” he stops talking abruptly and looks away.

“Fuck,” says Misha. “Oberon damn Jay Dee to a dragon’s lair! He’s put me on that farm too, hasn’t he?”

Jared nods cautiously.

Misha scowls. “And it goes without saying that he’s put me on morning shift, knowing full well how much I hate early mornings! I’m gonna have to stand in a circle of mushrooms on a muddy, smelly, shit-stinking farm in the middle of nowhere and I’m going to have to get up at assbutt o’clock in the morning to do it. Oh, this is just perfect!”

“Apparently it is,” Jay Dee says, entering the room and slapping Misha on the back. “Oracle Devine says that this is where you’re supposed to be. And look on the bright side. At least on the morning shift, you get to collect the cream. That’s always a bit of fun.”

Misha rolls his eyes. “Woo hoo,” he says flatly. “I get to magic some cream out of a bowl and through the portal into the processing factory. I’m so excited.”

“At least you get to lick the bowl,” Jared says and Misha treats him to his most withering look, because seriously? Does he have no pride?

 

The next morning is every bit as horrendous as Misha expects. For some reason, he can’t sleep in and his suspects that Jay Dee has bewitched him. For want of anything better to do, he gets out of bed and goes and bathes, before choosing a sparkly silver suit and a pair of black, patent leather ballet pumps to wear for the day. His hair always looks like he just rolled out of bed, no matter what he does to it, so he just leaves it.

There’s a long line of Fae waiting for the barracks portal and Misha clucks his tongue irritably. With all the portals they’ve got in stupid places all over the human realm, would it kill them to put in a few more in the Fae Realm? The outgoing portals get a lot more traffic than most of the ridiculous incoming portals. Seriously. When was the last time someone who wasn’t a guard came in from Fairy Ring CNK80Q3?

Misha finally gets to the front of the line and goes through the portal to Fairy Ring CNK80Q3.

It’s still dark in Iowa when Misha arrives and it stays dark for the next hour and fifteen minutes. Misha is cold and he is miserable. He finally casts a heat spell around himself, having checked very carefully that it wouldn’t cause a problem with the cloaking spell that is keeping him hidden from human perception. The warmth helps somewhat. As does the fact that the sun finally comes up. Well. It helps in that it means he can stare with horror at the bleak surroundings. This is so not his world; in more ways than one. What did Oracle Devine see that made her say he must be sent here? Why couldn’t she have seen him needing to go to Paris? Or Rome? Or Venice? Or Washington. Imagine the fun he could have if he was assigned to the portal in the Whitehouse? He could get up to so much mischief if he pretended to be an intern for a few days.

Misha’s attention is focused by the approach of a human. He’s an incredibly attractive human and Misha can’t help but stare at him. His clothes are awful, of course, but then Misha’s fantasies don’t particularly need him to spend much—or any—time in his clothes. The man is carrying a small bowl of cream and he’s calling ‘here kitty, kitty’ in a soft voice.

Misha snorts back a laugh. 

The human rocks to a sudden standstill and it appears that he is looking at Misha. Which he can’t be, because Misha is invisible. “What the _fuck_?” the human says.  

Misha rolls his eyes. “Awesome. It’s not bad enough that I’ve been sent to the ass end of the world, I’ve gotta cop a blithering idiot host as well.”

“What?” says the human. “Who are you calling an idiot?”

Misha’s eyes widen in panic. This is not good. So not good. The human shouldn’t be able to see or hear him. He’s cloaked and he’s been able to do a basic cloaking spell since he was ten years old, so there’s _no way_ this human should be able to interact with him. “You can see me?” he hisses.

The human nods.

This is a disaster! Jay Dee is going to bind his magic and clip his wings for sure. The wings in question flutter in distress. What should he do? What were you supposed to do when a human somehow saw you? If only he hadn’t slept through that part of training!

“What the _fuck_?” he says. And reactivates the portal.

Misha runs straight back to his dormitory and shakes Jared and Chris awake.

“Guys, guys! We’ve got a problem with our human!” he shrieks. “He can see fairies!”

A significant look passes between Jared and Chris. “He can see _fairies_ ,” Chris says, “or he can see _you_?”

“Well, I was the only Fae there. What’s the difference?”

Before Chris can answer, Jared clears his throat loudly. “No difference,” he says, “probably just a sensitive human. You’re just gonna need a face mask is all.”

If Misha had been on his game, he would have noticed the ‘what the fuck’ look that Chris is giving Jared, but he is too busy freaking out at having been seen by a human. Jared rummages in his locker for a bit and then hands Misha the sparkly silver mask with a headdress of blue feathers that he wore to the Masquerade Ball last Solstice. “There you go,” he says. “Just wear that and you’ll be fine.”

Chris has a sudden coughing fit.

“I don’t know, Jared,” Misha says dubiously.

“I tell you what,” says Chris, who has now recovered his composure. “How about we come with you?”

Misha relaxes at that. The idea of having his friends at his back is very reassuring. He somehow fails to notice that they don’t bother with masks.

When the three of them arrive in the fairy ring, the bowl of cream is placed in the proper offering position and the human is standing right beside it, staring at the fairy ring. He stumbles backwards and falls on his ass when Misha and his friends arrive.

“Oh for Oberon’s sake, Misha,” Jared scolds. “Why didn’t you resize to human proportions when you came through?”

Misha looks behind him. And up. And up. Jared in human proportion is HUGE. Chris is much shorter. Good idea, Misha thinks. If he’s going to be in the human realm, he should at least be human sized. He waves a hand and resizes himself and the human curses quite creatively and spider walks backwards a few steps. And then he cocks his head to one side and says, “Why are you wearing that girlie mask now?”

“He can still see me,” Misha tells Jared; who is inexplicably sniggering.

“Who are you talking to?” says the human, peering past Misha and frowning.

“My friends,” Misha says. “Jared and Chris. Can’t you see them?”

The human shakes his head. “Just you,” he says. He grins. “Did you think that I wouldn’t be able to see you if you put that mask on?”

Misha takes the mask off. “My friends,” he tips his head to where Jared and Chris are leaning on each other and laughing uproariously, “seem to have found it amusing to tell me so.”

The man gets to his feet and Misha is a little irritated to see that even re-proportioned to human size, he is still smaller than the man.

The human frowns over Misha’s shoulder. “So how come I can see you, but I can’t see them?”

“That is a good question,” Misha turns to face his friends and folds his arms across his chest.

“Maybe you should’ve paid attention in class,” Jared says, unrepentantly.

Chris slaps Misha’s upper arm and grins. “Relax man, this is a good thing. The only human who can see you through a cloaking spell is your soulmate.”

Misha blanches.

The human clears his throat and Misha flinches because the man has managed to move right up beside him without Misha even noticing. “What’s going on?” he says. “Did they tell you something? Is it bad that I can see you? Does it mean you’re really sick or something?”

He actually sounds concerned about it, so Misha turns to face him. Up close he can see that the man has a smattering of tiny freckles across his nose and beautiful big green eyes. “No,” he says. “Apparently it means you’re my soulmate.”


	2. Chapter 2

## Part Two

The fairy’s name is Misha. Jensen leaves him standing at attention inside the ring of mushrooms while he goes about his chores.  He’s a little slower than usual today, because he keeps finding himself going back to check on the fairy, as though dragged into his orbit by some kind of gravitational pull. Or maybe he’s just double; triple, quadruple checking that the winged man is actually real; that he didn’t just imagine him.

Whenever Jensen is near Misha, the fairy’s wings flutter and he stares at Jensen with such intensity that it makes him feel really self-conscious and he has to hurry away again.

The fairy’s invisible friends have gone back to the Fae Realm to report that Misha has found his soulmate. For a fairy, finding your soulmate is a big deal, apparently. It’s an even bigger deal if said soulmate is human.

Jensen drags his rake ferociously through dirty hay. He’s not quite sure how he feels about any of this. Yesterday, fairies didn’t exist. Today, he’s apparently destined to spend his life with one. It’s a lot to take in. He’s not even sure if he _likes_ Misha.  He’s not even sure if Misha _likes_ him.  The fairy looks stunned more than anything. Jensen supposes it’s a lot for him to take in too.

Misha’s attractive; in a flamboyant, Mardi Gras kind of way. Jensen tries to imagine going on a date with him and can’t. The wings are an issue for a start; they’re big and bluey -silver and people are going to notice them. Maybe Misha could wear a poncho? Jensen sniggers to himself. Also… all of the guys Jensen has dated have been really masculine. And it’s not that Misha isn’t masculine, because he is. It’s just that he’s also pretty, with big eyes and high cheekbones and if Jensen is honest with himself, he’s used to being the pretty one in his relationships.

Plus, most of the folk around Marshallville seem to be operating on a don’t ask, don’t tell policy when it comes to homosexuality. Even if Misha can hide his wings, he’d have to tone down his apparent penchant for sparkly silver suits and ballet pumps if they went out on a date, or the local boys might make trouble.  Jensen heaps a load of soiled hay into the wheelbarrow and heads over to the compost. 

As usual Brenda comes out to call him for lunch at midday. She can’t see or hear Misha, and Jensen feels sad for her. She would be so thrilled to see proof that fairies were real.

“I was hoping that we could have lunch together,” Misha says quietly. “I’m off duty as of now. And FYI, Jared and Chris just came back through.”

So as Jensen goes into the house with Brenda he explains to her that he’d like to have lunch on his own today, to take his sandwiches and his pie and a bottle of pop and go and eat out where the horses are grazing. He knows that his request makes her think that today is some kind of anniversary for him; someone’s birthday; or… _the_ day, maybe, and he feels bad about it. But he can hardly tell her he has a date with a fairy who claims to be his soulmate.

Jensen is pensive when he gets back to the fairy ring. He’s carrying a red plaid picnic rug that Brenda fetched for him out of the blanket box in the storm porch, and a small cooler, packed with enough food for two, that she insisted on putting together for him.

Misha is turned away from him, looking over his shoulder.

“I don’t know, Jared,” he says irritably, “it should’ve worked! I… well, no. I just…” Misha makes a complicated gesture with his hand.

“I’m back,” Jensen says into the silence that follows Misha’s hand waving, but Misha shushes him.

“Alright, alright,” the Fae finally says with a sigh. “You win. Can you at least help me out here?”

“Uh what?” Jensen says.

Misha finally turns to look at him. “I was talking to Jared. I stuffed up the spell to make just my wings invisible,” he rolls his eyes.  “Apparently paying more attention in class may have been advisable.”

There is a shimmering, like desert heat, behind Misha and he makes a satisfied noise.

“Thank you,” he says.

Jensen frowns. “I can still see your wings,” he says.

Misha explains that he can’t hide any part of himself from Jensen because they are soulmates, and that no-one else can see his wings.

There is more shimmering and then two more Fae become visible.

One of them is huge; taller, even than Jensen. Jensen can’t help but state the obvious.

The tall Fae shrugs good-naturedly and steps forward, offering his hand to Jensen.

“I’m Jared,” he says. “It’s so awesome that you’re gonna be Misha’s soulmate! I love humans.”

His hand is huge and when Jensen looks into his eyes he gets lost, just for a minute. He feels Misha bristle beside him so he gives Jared a wide, friendly smile and says, “Hi Jared. I’m Jensen. Nice to meet you when you’re not invisible.”

Jared’s grin is brilliant and unrestrained. “Do you get many moose here? I’m told there are moose in Iowa.”

Jensen gapes at him. “Uh. Not really,” he says. “Maybe one a year in the whole state. It’s rare enough that it makes the TV news when it happens.”

Jared’s face falls and he reminds Jensen of a very sad puppy.  “But Steve said there were moose,” he says morosely, turning to the stocky, long-haired Fae.

“Steve’s from LA,” the other Fae says with a shrug, “and it’s been a long while since he lived in the human realm.”

“Maybe he was thinking about Minnesota?” Jensen says diplomatically. “They still get a fair few moose.”   

He offers his hand to the stocky, long-haired Fae.  “Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Jensen.”

“Yeah I got that,” the Fae drawls. “I’m Chris. At least we’re not gonna have to deal with his lordship bitching about your name.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow at Misha, but the man…fairy…whatever…is staring at him intently again and he loses his train of thought.

“Jensen,” Misha’s voice is warm, gravelly and melodic. “Shall we go?”

“Uh, yeah. Let me just,” Jensen reaches down and picks up the cooler and picnic rug.

Jared claps him on the shoulder and tells him that he hopes he enjoys his lunch with Misha. Jensen gets a little entranced by his wide soulful expression again.

“You’ve really got the puppy dog eyes happening, haven’t you?” he says. He gets a sudden clear picture of Jared running barefoot through woodlands with a herd of deer, his hair and his wings streaming behind him. “There’s something very earthy about you,” he murmurs. “I bet you love animals.”

Jared gasps and Jensen shakes himself out of his trance. All three fairies are gaping at him. “I’m sorry?” he says. “Did I…say something offensive?”

Misha breaks into a grin. “Hasn’t even set foot in the Fae Realm yet,” he says proudly. “He’s gonna be awesome!”

Chris smiles and shakes his head and mutters something about Steve.

Both Chris and Jared head back into the fairy ring and disappear and as they walk toward the bottom paddock, Misha explains that Chris has gone back to the barracks to get some more sleep because he’s on night shift, and Jared has re-cloaked himself and taken up position guarding the ring.

Jensen spreads out the picnic rug on the grass and unpacks the food; a plate of sandwiches, half an apricot pie and a hunk of goat’s cheese. There is also a bottle of Mountain Dew and two plastic cups.

“Help yourself,” Jensen says, picking up a cheese and tomato sandwich.

He watches as Misha carefully selects a sandwich for himself and sniffs at it cautiously.

“So,” Jensen chooses a second sandwich for himself. “What do I need to know?”

Misha inclines his head to one side, birdlike, and appears to consider Jensen’s question.

“When the Fae mate, we mate for for life,” he says. “Not all Fae find their soulmate. Many simply engage in casual exchanges of the Goddess’s gift, but once they have found their soulmate, no other touch will ever be satisfying.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “The Fae have a Goddess?”

Misha nods. “And a God. And sometimes each is also neither or both,” he sees Jensen’s puzzled frown and sighs. “It is…complex.”

Jensen nods. “Okay,” he drawls. “And what about the ‘no other touch will be satisfying’ thing? Is that just a fairy thing? Or does it apply to me too? Am I now screwed as far as ever being with anyone else is concerned?”    

Misha’s eyes tighten. “I don’t know,” he says. “But I very much hope that being with another won’t be of interest to you anymore. We would not be soulmates if we weren’t compatible in every way.”

Jensen finds some paper napkins and helps himself to a hunk of pie.  It’s not like he has a boyfriend at the moment. He doesn’t even have his eye on anyone. In fact, Misha is hands down the hottest guy he’s come across in a long while. Jensen’s not going to lie; he’s attracted to him. And he’s put out for guys he was a lot less attracted to, for no better reason than a roof over his head for the night. But if it’s going to be forever, shouldn’t there be more to it than being vaguely willing to put out?

Misha clears his throat. “There’s more you should know.” He has given up on the food and is eyeing off the bottle of Mountain Dew. Jensen pours some into one of the plastic cups for him and he sniffs at it dubiously before taking a tentative sip. He spits it straight back out again.

“That is not dew from a mountain,” he says. “It is carbonated water, corn syrup and…something…very…unnatural.”

The fairy looks horrified and Jensen can’t help but laugh. “It’s just a name, dude. Hey, speaking of names, what did Chris mean when he said some lord wouldn’t bitch about my name?”

Misha blushes faintly. “Chris has a human soulmate. His name is Steve. It is a bland name; there is no music in it. It doesn’t sound at all nice to the Fae ear. Jensen though, that is a beautiful name.”

Jensen frowns. He has so many questions trying to elbow their way to the forefront of his brain that he isn’t sure what to ask first.

“So fairy/human soulmates are common then?”

Misha shakes his head and explains that they’re quite rare; only about 3% of the Fae have a human soulmate.

Jensen rubs a hand through his hair and then rubs it across the back of his neck. This is all so incredibly weird.

“What else do I need to know?” he asks Misha. “You said there was more?”

Misha bites at his bottom lip. “You will likely begin to change as a result of our bond.”

Jensen’s stomach clutches painfully. “What? Change? How?”

Misha picks up the entire hunk of goats cheese and begins to eat it. He seems much happier with the cheese than with the sandwiches.

“How will I change, Misha?” Jensen asks again.

“It is never possibly to say,” the fairy replies. “Steve grew wings.”

Privately, Jensen thinks that wings would be cool, but it would make him stand out far too much. Unless of course Misha—or Jared—made them invisible for him. Jensen frowns. If he and Misha are supposed to be soulmates, then surely they are supposed to live together? And right now they live in different worlds; which is going to make that difficult. Maybe it’s different with the Fae? Maybe they won’t be expected to live together. Maybe they’ll just hook up every so often? Jensen puts the question to Misha who explains that as far as he is aware, all Fae/Human couples live in the Fae Realm.

A frisson of fear travels up Jensen’s spine at the answer, but then it starts to morph into something a lot closer to excitement. He’s already moved around so much during his life; what’s one more move? On the other hand, when Misha inevitably gets bored of him and kicks him to the curb, having to move worlds could be a major hassle.

Jensen takes a long hard look at Misha.  The fairy has a strong jaw with a dimple in his chin and beautiful full (slightly chapped) lips. His dark hair is a mess and his eyes are big and blue. Right now those eyes are staring intently at him, yet again, and Jensen, he just doesn’t feel it. 

“Are you sure about this soulmate thing?” he says. “Because I don’t feel,” he pauses. “I mean, you’re hot and I’m attracted to you, even if you are ridiculously over-dressed, but shouldn’t I feel…something?”

“Something?”

“Some soul deep connection or something?”

Misha licks his dry lips. “I believe you should feel something, yes.” He reaches out a hand and places it against Jensen’s head.  He inclines his head and narrows his eyes. “You don’t believe you deserve to be loved,” he says.

Jensen knocks the fairy’s hand away. “What? Don’t be stupid,” he says. He starts to gather up the remains of their picnic and pack it away.

“I am not being stupid,” Misha growls. “Your mind is preventing your soul from feeling the bond properly, because you don’t believe that you are truly worthy of being loved.” The fairy gets to his feet, eyes flashing with fury. “I will hunt down every mortal who has ever made you feel this way and I will—”

Jensen scrambles to his feet and grips the enraged fairy by the arm. “Whoa! Chill, dude.”

Misha turns to him and cups a gentle hand against his cheek. “I can feel your soul, Jensen,” he says, “and it is a bright and beautiful thing.”

Jensen blushes faintly under his touch. It’s sweet that the fairy is saying such kind things to him, but Jensen knows the truth. No-one ever wants him to stick around. Not once they get to know him. Jensen is short term. Temporary. Always being asked to move on.

He finishes packing up and refuses to let Misha carry anything. “Look,” he says. “All this soulmate stuff…I know you believe it, but you don’t know me. If you did, the last thing you would want is to be saddled with me for life. So just. Go home, Misha. Share the Goddess’s gift with a bunch of other fairies and be happy. You don’t want me.”

“Yes I do!”

The fairy sounds panicky and it gives Jensen pause.

“You say I don’t know you,” Misha says quickly. “And that is true,” he moves in close and puts his palm to Jensen’s cheek again. Jensen can’t help leaning into the touch. “So let me know you,” Misha says softly. “Let me woo you.”

Jensen barks out a laugh and takes a step backwards, away from the fairy. “You want to ‘woo’ me?” he says.

Misha purses his lips. “Is that not the right word?”

“Well, sure,” Jensen says, “except that wooing is generally reserved for chicks. You know, girls?” his eyes suddenly widen. “You do know that I’m not a girl, right?”

Misha closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “The biology of the Fae and that of humans is very similar,” he says, before turning his piercing eyes back on Jensen. “I am perfectly aware that you are male. You are a beautiful, infuriatingly stubborn man and I would like to get to know you better.”

Jensen blushes under his gaze. He supposes there’s no harm in that. It may even convince Misha that he’s got it all wrong; that this soulmate business is all a mistake.

“Okay,” he says.

Misha’s grin is a little like the sun coming out.

“You can woo me,” Jensen adds.

Misha’s grin slides slowly off his face. “Great,” he says. “How do I do that?”

Jensen shrugs. “You’re the wooer,” he says. “You figure it out.”

 

## ~X~

 

Misha flies down the barracks’ corridor toward the mated quarters, mostly ignoring the shouted congratulations coming at him from left and right. News of him having met his soulmate in the Mortal Realm has travelled fast, but he doesn’t stop to respond to the well-wishers. He goes straight to Chris and Steve’s room and knocks softly on the door.

Steve slips out of it a moment later, his forefinger against his lips.

“I figured you’d stop by,” he says. “But let’s do this somewhere else. Chris is asleep.”

Together they go out into the gardens and sit down beneath a big, old tree.  

“Okay,” Steve says. “Shoot.”

Misha takes a very big breath. “How do I woo a human?” he asks.

Steve rubs a hand across his jaw. “First off, is he out?”

Misha frowns. “Out of what?”

Steve sighs. “Sexuality isn’t as…easy going in the human realm as it is here. Most humans are only interested in members of the opposite sex and among a lot of humans there are strong taboos against sexual relations between members of the same sex.”

“Oh,” says Misha. “Why?”

Steve shrugs. “They believe their God forbids it.”

Misha frowns. “Why would a—” 

“I don’t know, Misha. The question is; what does your soulmate believe?”

Misha is completely confused by the question and it must show on his face because Steve sighs and says, “Yes, I know he wouldn’t be your soulmate if he wasn’t capable of being sexually attracted to you, but a lot of humans repress their sexuality out of fear. Revealing that you’re attracted to the same sex can be a big deal in the Mortal Realm. We call it ‘coming out’.”

Misha nods. “I see. My soulmate is called Jensen by the way.”

Steve grins. “Thank goodness he isn’t called something bland like Sam or Dean.”

Misha rolls his eyes. “Jensen didn’t react badly when I told him I found him attractive. And I caught him looking at my ass several times. He was also pretty eager to make sure that I knew he wasn’t a girl.”

“Okay,” Steve says. “That’s a good start. At least he’s not freaking out because you’re a guy. Is he freaking out because you’re a fairy?”

“Not really,” Misha says. “He’s freaking out because I’m his soulmate. He doesn’t believe he is worthy of being truly loved. So I need to woo him. To prove to him that he is worthy.”

“Okay,” Steve says. “You need to take him on a kickass date. What does he like doing? What are his interests?”

And Misha falls at the first hurdle, because he has absolutely no idea.

 

## ~X~

 

Jensen hasn’t gotten any better at rounding up the chickens. They flap and they squawk and they run this way and that. Jensen wonders if it scares them that they can no longer take to the skies; he wonders if they miss flying. He wonders if he’ll get wings. He wonders if he’ll be brave enough to try them out if he does.

Brenda comes out and helps him with the hens as she normally does. There isn’t the usual laughter today, though. Brenda is quiet and shoots him thoughtful looks, as if trying to gauge his mood.

When they round up the last wayward hen and head toward the house, she finally asks him how he’s doing. He tells her that he’s fine; that it’s just been one of those days, but he’s doing okay now. She puts a tentative arm around his shoulders and pulls him close, just briefly. It’s been a while since someone touched him with the sort of kindness that doesn’t expect anything in return.

Upstairs in the bathroom, Jensen peels his clothes off slowly while he waits for the shower to heat up.  Once it’s steaming, he steps inside and lets the water beat a soothing rhythm against his shoulder blades. He tips his head back, mouth open, and lets the water cascade over his face.

Today, his entire understanding of the nature of the world changed. He really thinks he should feel something other than vaguely perplexed. Then again, it’s not exactly the first time he’s experienced a world-shattering revelation. At least this one is mostly positive. Jensen begins to soap his body. The fairies seem friendly; just like regular guys really, only with wings. He can imagine drinking at a bar with Jared and Chris.  He’s still not sure what to make of Misha.

Jensen pictures Misha’s blue eyes; the way the fairy stares at him as though seeing straight into his soul. Maybe he can? The way he got all fired up at the thought of someone hurting Jensen was pretty hot. Misha is pretty; not at all the type of muscle-bound macho guy that Jensen typically finds himself in bed with; but in that moment, when he was standing there with his eyes blazing, Jensen had clearly been able to see the strength in him, to imagine the fairy gripping his wrists and pinning him to a mattress while he fucked him slow and deep and hard, opening him up; making him take it; all the while staring intently into his eyes and saying, _mine, mine_ , over and over again. Jensen isn’t quite sure when he wrapped his hand around his cock, but he’s fully hard now and stroking himself firmly. He widens his stance and leans his forehead against the shower wall and then reaches behind himself with a soapy hand. He rubs a finger against his hole before pushing it inside. He finds his prostate and bites back a moan. It’s been a while since he jerked off; getting dumped had messed with his libido; so it isn’t long before he’s shooting all over the shower wall, biting his bottom lip hard to keep from crying out.

Later, after supper, Jensen helps Brenda to clear the table and wash the dishes. She’s humming to herself and when he asks what the song is, she tells him that it’s an old Irish folk song called _King of the fairies_.   

Jensen puts away the serving dish that he’s just finished drying and then leans back against the kitchen table, with his feet cross at the ankles and the tea-towel draped over his shoulder.  “Can you tell me about the fairies?” he says. “The ones we put cream out for.”

Brenda’s hands still in the dirty dish water for a moment and then she resumes scrubbing at the pan. “What do you want to know?” she asks.

Jensen shrugs. “Dunno,” he says. “Just whatever mythology there is about them.”

So she tells him. About Tir na Nog; the realm of the Fae. About the Seelie and the Unseelie—the good fairies and the bad. She tells him that if you eat or drink in the Fae Realm you can never leave it; that time moves differently there and you could come back to the Mortal Realm and die of old age as soon as your feet touched the ground. She tells him of the Wild Hunt and of Changelings and Jensen’s head is soon spinning; some of the stuff she says sounds completely made up, some of it sounds like there might be a little bit of truth there. Jensen smiles to himself because he’s going to be able to check with the source soon enough. 

“Do the myths say anything about the fairies interacting with humans?” he asks.

Brenda turns and looks at him suspiciously and he endeavors to make himself look harmless and innocent. “Just wondering,” he says. “I’d really like to see one.”

Brenda’s eyes narrow and she holds his gaze for an uncomfortably long time before appearing to decide that he’s not trying to make fun of her.

“The Fae don’t typically make themselves known to mortals,” she says, “but there are tales of them kidnapping human lovers to _service their needs_.”

_Service their needs_? The way she says it, and the flush of her face, leaves Jensen in no doubt as to what she means. And Misha did say that human/fairy soulmates pretty much always lived in the Fae Realm, but _kidnapping_? Would Misha kidnap him if he didn’t go with him voluntarily? Would he force Jensen to _service his needs_? Jensen huffs out a quiet laugh. Kidnapped and kept as a sex slave; that sounds more like his life.

Jensen comes out of his reverie to find Brenda staring at him with a strangely sad, almost envious expression on her face. “Another less well-known myth,” she says softly, “tells of fairies finding their soulmate among the humans and whisking them away to live for all eternity in the Fae Realm.”

Jensen fakes a smile and offers to slice up the lemon meringue pie that they’re having for dessert.   In truth, he doesn’t know what to think about Misha and his intentions. It’s all just incredibly weird. He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

 

## ~X~

 

Misha and Steve have been brainstorming dating ideas for several long, painful hours when Steve decides that they need reinforcements.  Chris is on duty now, but Jared is back and Steve reaches out to him to join them. Jared, Chris and Steve had already been friends when they arrived at the barracks for their period of guard duty. Misha is still bemused that they decided to welcome him into their ranks. He knew Genevieve from the Royal Court and she introduced him to Danneel and he had been content with their occasional companionship, not really looking to make friends. So far, Misha has kept his two groups of friends separate, but he thinks now, that a female perspective might be helpful so he tells Steve that he will also call on them to join in their brainstorming session.  

Jared arrives first and the girls arrive shortly after. Misha introduces everyone and the minute that Genevieve and Jared shake hands, the air around them practically crackles with magic. A moment later they’re locked in a passionate kiss and Steve is trying to pull them apart for long enough to go and register their new status.

“Seriously?” Danneel scowls, her hands going to her hips. “I’m gonna be the only one here without a soulmate? So not fair!”

Misha knows how she feels. He may have met his soulmate, but his soulmate is an emotionally stunted human who can’t feel their bond and doesn’t believe it’s there. He watches with envy as Steve shoves a still-kissing Jared and Genevieve out of the door. Why couldn’t he have had that?

Thanks to Danneel, the rest of their brainstorming session is actually very short. She suggests that as Misha is likely to see his soulmate at work tomorrow, perhaps he should simply _ask_ him what he’d enjoy doing on a date.

Misha retires to the dormitory, only to discover that all his stuff has been moved into the mated quarters. He’s grateful for the larger bed and private bathroom, but lying by himself in the big, fluffy bed, he feels like a fraud. His soulmate; his Jensen; should be here with him. Misha imagines spreading Jensen’s legs wide apart and then licking and sucking and tonguing at his hole, until he is loose and wet and sloppy. He imagines sinking into his soulmate’s tight heat, imagines the pretty, desperate sounds Jensen will make as he fucks him slow and hard and deep, nailing his prostate dead-on every time.  Misha slides a hand down to his cock and jerks himself off with quick, efficient tugs. When he comes it’s to the image of his soulmate’s beautiful face twisted in the ecstasy of orgasm. Misha cleans up with a wave of his hand and wonders if his fantasies will prove to be all he ever has of his soulmate.

 

## ~X~

 

Jensen’s stomach flutters with something he shies away from naming when he sees his fairy standing on guard duty. Misha is dressed more casually today, in a pair of expensive-looking jeans, a grey shirt and a black suit jacket.

“Hi,” Jensen says. “You look good.”

Misha smiles and his wings flutter. “Thank you. I didn’t wish to be ‘ridiculously over-dressed’ again.” He makes air quotes with his fingers and Jensen can’t help smiling back at him, because it’s kind of adorable, in a really dorky way.

“I would like to invite you on a date,” Misha says. “Where would you like to go and what would you like to do?”

Jensen figures that dating is an important step in the wooing process and he’s actually quite pleased that Misha is looking for his input. After his talk with Brenda he’d been a little worried that the fairy might decide that wooing was too much trouble and just kidnap him instead. He hands Misha the bowl of cream while he considers the (somewhat limited) dating options in Marshallville for a gay couple. He watches in awe as Misha flicks his hand and makes the cream in the bowl rise up out of it and then disappear.

“What do you guys do with all the cream anyway?” he asks.

Misha explains that there are no non-sentient creatures in the Fae Realm, so the Fae don’t produce meat or dairy products. They don’t eat meat period, but they are rather partial to dairy products, so whenever humans offer tribute, the Fae ask for it in cream.

Jensen is sure he looks as horrified as he feels. “So I’d be right in guessing there’s no steak in the Fae Realm?”

“No steak,” Misha says.

Jensen rubs a hand across his jaw. “We’re gonna be living in this Realm then because I ain’t becoming a vegetarian for no-one.”

Misha beams at him. “You want us to live together?”

“I…uh…dunno. It was more a figure of speech?”

Misha frowns at him. “Was that a question?”

“No? I. Um. So,” Jensen clears his throat. “Can we go to Texas Roadhouse for our date?”

Misha inclines his head. “You wish to go to a roadhouse in Texas?”

“It’s a restaurant. They do awesome steak.”

Misha glares at him. “I don’t want to see you eating the flesh of dead animals.”

“Yeah?” Jensen bristles. “Well too bad, buddy, cuz I’m from Texas!”

Misha’s brow furrows. “You hail from a restaurant?”

“What? No. Texas is a state. The restaurant is named after…you know what? Never mind. I’m not giving up steak. That’s just…it’s just a road too far.”

Misha looks utterly perplexed. “Is this road that is too far, the same road that the Texas house with the steak is on?”

Jensen stares at him. “I’m not drunk enough for this conversation to make sense,” he says, before stomping off to do his chores.

 

Several hours later, Jensen is feeling like an asshole.  He loves his steak way too much to ever give it up, but if Misha is a vegetarian, then Jensen really should respect that. He can deal with eating rabbit food whenever they eat together, so long as he gets to eat meat at least a few times a week.  Jensen turns away from the feed trough he’s just filled with a sigh and practically walks into Misha’s chest.

“Dude!” he says. “Personal space!”

Misha takes a step back.

“And aren’t you meant to be guarding the fairy ring?”

Misha rolls his eyes. “I have one of your hens doing it for me.”

Jensen gapes at him. “One of…the hens?”

“Yes. I put a spell on her. She will alert me if there is any danger.”

Jensen raises his eyebrows and then runs a hand across his jaw. “Okay. Well. Did you want something?”

Misha’s eyes dim. “I wanted to spend time with you. Do you...want me to leave you alone?”

Jensen shakes his head. “No. You can tag along if you want. Fair warning, though; you’re gonna get dirty. Especially in those shoes.”

Misha looks down at Jensen’s boots and then a moment later he waves his hand and his own dress shoes are replaced with boots.

Jensen thinks that’s a pretty neat trick and wonders if the fairy is as skilled at magically _removing_ clothing.  He scratches his head. “So listen, I owe you an apology.”

Misha inclines his head quizzically and Jensen really shouldn’t find it as adorable as he does.

“For the whole steak thing.  I mean, I ain’t gonna give up my carnivore ways any time soon, but, uh, I guess I don’t have to eat meat in front of you if it makes you upset.”

“Thank you,” the fairy says. “You’re not a carnivore, you know. You are an omnivore.”

Jensen pats him on the arm. “Just a figure of speech, man.”

Misha grins at him. “Also? When our bond solidifies you will lose your taste for meat. Steve also used to enjoy steak and now, after so long with Chris, even the thought of it makes him ill.”

Jensen groans. And then wonders how much of himself will actually be left once (if) this soulmate bond thing solidifies.

Over the next couple of hours Misha debunks most of Brenda’s fairy myths. He is highly amused by some of them; the idea that the Fae must stop to count sugar grains if they are tossed before them has him doubled over with laughter; and he is infuriated by others; the suggestion that the Fae would kidnap humans and keep them as sex slaves makes him particularly angry.  He says that the Wild Hunt and Changelings are 100% myth, but concedes that there is in fact a Seelie Court and an Unseelie court, although it isn’t so much a case of good and bad so much as light and dark. He explains about The Balance; the maintenance of the natural order; the preservation of Mother Earth’s innate cycles and rhythms. The Fae play an important part in Earth’s cycles, apparently.

“When a new mortal life is due to be born it is the Seelie,” Misha explains, “who escort the chosen soul to the body; when an old mortal life is due to die, it is the Unseelie who escort the soul to the Summerland. The Seelie are responsible for Summer and Spring; the Unseelie for Autumn and Winter. It is our job to maintain The Balance; to ensure the preservation of the cycles.” Misha leans against Black Betty’s stall with his feet crossed at the ankles and his hands in the front pocket of his jeans.

“Unfortunately,” he continues, “every now and then, someone somewhere believes that the Light should conquer the Dark or vice versa. But we can only co-exist. There can be no Spring without Winter; the price we pay for life is death; the cycles must be maintained or chaos will ensue.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jensen says, as he shovels soiled hay into the wheelbarrow. “In our myths, us humans interpreted the Unseelie as being evil because we’re not big fans of the dark, winter, or dying. But they’re not evil, they just represent the parts of the cycles that we’d rather forget about.” 

“Just so,” Misha agrees. “It’s interesting to determine the likely roots of your myths about us. That myth that once you’ve eaten in the Fae Realm you can never leave? It likely came about because once you have eaten in the Fae Realm you don’t _want_ to leave, because our food is _so_ awesome. Human food, in contrast, is terrible.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna prove you wrong on that,” he says. “There’s a bar in town that does good food. Let’s go there for our date. I’ve eaten there with Brenda and Larry and they do vegetarian stuff, so you’ll be fine,” he sighs. “And I won’t have steak if it’s gonna bother you.”

Misha wants to pick Jensen up from the house and fly him to the restaurant, but Jensen explains that it would be too hard to explain how he’d arrived at the farm and how they were planning to get into town. Also, although he doesn’t mention it to Misha, Brenda and Larry don’t know that he’s gay and he doesn’t want to tell them. If they take it badly and kick him out, he’ll lose both the roof over his head and his job and he doesn’t want to feel that he has no choice but to join Misha in the Fae Realm, doesn’t want to go into this with the power imbalance between them any greater than it already is.

Misha agrees to meet him at the bar and Jensen promises to text him the address.

Misha inclines his head and frowns. “Text?” he says.

Jensen blinks. “Huh,” he says. “Fairy. Guessing there ain’t no cell towers in the Fae Realm.”

“The palace has many towers,” Misha tells him gravely and Jensen turns and lets his forehead thunk against the wall of the barn before turning back to Misha and explaining about cell phones.

Misha is visibly impressed and waxes somewhat lyrical about the ingenious steps humans have taken to counter their lack of magical ability.

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen rolls his eyes. “I’ll look up the bar’s address at lunch time and write it down for you.”

“No need,” Misha says airily. “If you get there first, I’ll be able to track you via our bond.”

Jensen swallows. “Right. Cuz that’s not stalkery at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

## Part Three

The Bumblebee Bar and Grill is warm and woody. There’s a ‘family restaurant’ section which has different sized, roughly-hewn wooden tables, lots of fake plants and low-hanging lights that look like bee hives.

On the opposite side of an exposed brick wall with a two-way open fire place, there’s a ‘saloon’ section, with a long granite bar that’s lined with brown leather bar stools. Guests can get into this part from the restaurant via swinging saloon doors and there’s an outside entry too. The bar has a jukebox, a couple of pool tables, a couple of foosball tables and a couple of air hockey tables, and it’s where the town’s younger crowd congregate on a Friday and a Saturday night.

Jensen arrives at The Bumblebee at six pm promptly. He gets a table for two in the family restaurant section and tells the server that he’s expecting a friend to join him. Misha walks through the front door five minutes later. He’s dressed much as he was earlier, in nice jeans, a silver shirt and a black suit jacket. His hair still looks like he just rolled out of bed, but Jensen likes it; he finds himself wanting to run his fingers through it and fights back a blush.

Misha lights up when he sees Jensen and makes his way over quickly. The server brings water and bread rolls and menus and then retreats.

“You look good,” Jensen says.

Misha’s eyes rove over him. “As do you,” he says.

Jensen helps himself to a bread roll. “Yeah. Well. I don’t do fancy clothes.” He is suddenly a little self-conscious of his work-tough jeans and plaid shirt.

He steers the conversation away from him looking like a hick and Misha looking all well-dressed and sophisticated. “So, did you have any trouble finding the place?”

“None at all,” Misha says. “Our bond is slowly strengthening and it led me straight to you,” he leans forward and lowers his voice. “I flew in cloaked so that my landing would be discreet and then I made sure I was entirely hidden from view before I de-cloaked.  I have been practicing the spell to hide only my wings all afternoon!”

The fairy looks very pleased with himself and Jensen can’t help but smile. “Good job,” he says and then chuckles when the fairy positively preens under the praise.

The server comes across and asks them if they’re ready to order, but they haven’t even looked at the menus yet.

It occurs to Jensen that it’s a little odd that of all the languages on the planet, the fairy speaks English. And besides, surely they have their own language?

“We do,” Misha tells him. “We call it The True Tongue.”

Jensen nods. “So did you learn English as part of your Guard training?”

Misha takes a sip of his water and inclines his head. “Not bad,” he says. “A little too much nitrate, perhaps.”

Jensen gapes at him.

“I’m a Water- _Sídhe,”_ he says. Which is obviously supposed to explain things, but doesn’t.

Misha tells him that the Fae, whether Seelie or Unseelie, are all aligned with one of the main four elements; Earth, Fire, Water or Air.

“Jared is an Earth- _Sídhe,”_ Misha says. “Which is why we were all so impressed when you said there was something very ‘earthy’ about him. It appears you may be naturally sensitive to the _fhórsa saol_ of others.”

“Fhórsa saol?” Jensen queries.

Misha purses his lips. “The life force. The spirit.”

Jensen’s mouth twists skeptically. He doesn’t know about this spirit business. It’s more likely that he’s just learned how to read people well, because for a foster kid who’s constantly dumped on different people it’s an important survival skill.

“So when did you learn English?” he steers the conversation back to its original topic.

Misha shrugs. “The Fae have the Gift of Tongues. I speak The True Tongue, all the human languages, both past and current, and Dragon.”

Jensen chokes on his water. “There are dragons?” he splutters, once he’s finished coughing.

Misha nods gravely. “But don’t worry, it has been many years since one escaped through a portal into your realm.”

“Fuck,” Jensen breathes.

They make their meal selections and then spend a pleasant evening getting to know each other. Misha talks about his family and their duties in the Fae Realm, which mostly seem to revolve around managing various river systems in the Human Realm and attending functions at the Royal Court.

It all sounds very important and glamorous and Jensen can’t imagine himself fitting in.

He tells Misha that his folks passed when he was a kid and after that he pretty much just got tossed from foster family to foster family, until he was sixteen, and old enough to be put in a group home.

“My eighteenth birthday,” he says, “they gave me a letter saying I’d been discharged from the system, $200.00 and the address of a cheap boarding house. Been trying to find somewhere to call home ever since.”

Misha reaches out and puts a hand over his. “You will always have a home with me,” he says.

The server collects their dirty plates and Jensen pulls his hand away from Misha.

They have dessert and the noises Misha makes when he eats his peach cobbler go straight to Jensen’s cock.

“It seems that the food in your world has improved greatly since I last visited the Realm,” Misha says, putting his fork down and licking his lips contentedly. “Tonight’s meal has been exquisite.”

“When were you last in the Mortal Realm?” Jensen asks.

Misha cocks his head and considers the question. “It was a long time ago. I was very young,” he says. “Thirty years old, perhaps.”

Jensen gapes at him, because Misha doesn’t look a day over twenty five.

“Can’t have been that long ago,” he says. “How old are you now?”

“I am 253,” Misha replies.

“Get the fuck out!” Jensen’s jaw drops.

Misha looks devastated. He looks down at the table and then stands slowly and reluctantly, before turning away.

“Hey…where are you going?’ Jensen asks.

Misha frowns. “You told me to get out.”

“It’s just an expression, dude. Sit down.”

Misha sits.

“So…you’re immortal?” Jensen says.

Misha explains that no living being is immortal; some just live longer than others and are very hard to kill. In Fae terms, Misha is still considered very young, as the Fae can live for up to 5,000 years and are not considered to have reached adulthood until their 250th birthday.

Jensen figures that this human/fairy soulmate thing really has to suck for the fairies. He’s got eighty or ninety years in him if he’s lucky. To the Fae that must seem like such a short time.

Jensen says as much to Misha and the fairy cocks his head again in the way he does when something really puzzles him.

“Once our bond has solidified,” Misha says, “your lifespan will be as long as mine.”

Somehow it really doesn’t seem fair to Jensen that his little sisters didn’t get to reach double digits and yet he is being given an opportunity to have several millennia.

He shakes his head in a combination of wonder and denial. “Wanna play some pool?” he asks the fairy.

Misha has never played pool before, which means that Jensen gets to teach him, stretching over his lean body, pressing up against him, and guiding his hands on the cue.  It’s been a while since Jensen got laid and even if he’s not sure about this soulmate business, he’s not at all averse to the idea of sneaking into one of the barns with Misha and getting fucked over a stack of hay bales. So Jensen does a lot of very unsubtle cue fondling, strategic bending over and ass-wiggling. He watches with satisfaction as Misha’s expression becomes more and more heated and when he manages to rub up against him in passing he is delighted to find Misha hard. Jensen swallows and promptly sinks the rest of the balls on the table. He turns, more than ready to suggest that they get out of there and finds a familiar face leaning against the pool table, standing right in between him and Misha.

“Looky here, Dave,” says the guy, “if it ain’t that little fag that got us arrested for tryina teach Warren to act right.”

Another man—Dave presumably—nods and twirls a pool cue threateningly. “Shoulda known he was a fairy,” Dave says.

“Jensen is not a fairy,” Misha says.

“Jensen,” the other thug mocks, “sounds like a fairy name to me!”

 Misha stares at him hard. “Yes,” he agrees cautiously. “It does have the pleasing sound of a fairy name. But Jensen is not a fairy.”

Both men are now focused on Misha. “You’re a fairy, though, aren’t you?” Dave sneers.

Misha blinks. “What makes you say that?”

“We can tell by the look of you,” the other man says, chest puffing out as he fronts up to Misha aggressively.

Misha glances back over one shoulder and Jensen realizes that he’s wondering if his wings are visible to the humans.

“It’s slang,” Jensen tells him, “for someone who’s gay. You know, likes other guys.”

“Yeah, like you!” Dave pokes Misha in the chest.

“I see,” Misha straightens up and frowns. “But why is ‘fairy’ slang for that? The Fae—”

Jensen cuts him off. “I guess because people think that fairies are weak and dainty like girls, and if gay guys fuck other guys then they must be girly too. Weak and dainty, like a fairy.”

Misha goes very still. “Humans think that fairies are weak?” he says in a very cold voice.

Jensen nods and Dave shoves at Misha again.

“I reckon we should take these fairies outside and teach ‘em a lesson about being a real man,” Dave says.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jensen says placatingly. “We’ll just leave.”

“No,” Misha says. “I think Dave’s idea is an excellent one. There are definitely some lessons to be taught here. Let’s go.”

He walks briskly to the exit and Jensen hurries after him. “Misha, we don’t have to do this,” he says, as they reach the car park.  “We can just go.”

“I don’t think so,” Dave shoves Jensen hard from behind and Jensen stumbles.

Misha moves like a whirlwind. Before Jensen can do much more than blink both Dave and his buddy are out cold on the asphalt and the small circle of onlookers that had gathered to watch the gay bashing are shuffling uncertainly.

“Would anyone else like to fight the fairies?” Misha asks.

There is a loud crack of thunder and a flash of lightning and for just a moment, Misha’s wings appear in shadow. The shadowy wings are obviously visible to the gathered onlookers because they gasp and point and back away uncertainly.

Once they’ve all gone back into the bar, Misha spins to look at Jensen, the expression on his face ferocious. Jensen takes a subconscious step backwards and ends up with his back pressed against somebody’s truck.

“He put his hands on you,” Misha says, his body practically flush with Jensen’s. “I didn’t like it.”

Jensen takes hold of Misha’s waist and reels him in. He widens his stance so that he is a little shorter than Misha and then tilts his head back and parts his lips. Misha recognizes the invitation for what it is and claims Jensen’s mouth in a kiss that is both gentle and unyielding. He brings his hands up to Jensen’s head and holds him firmly in place as he plunders his mouth, lips pressed against lips, tongue thrusting and tasting. Jensen returns the kiss passionately, but he lets the fairy take the lead.

“Hey!” There is an outraged shout from somewhere behind them. “That’s my truck!”

Misha flings an arm backwards with a muttered snarl and there is silence again. Misha thrusts his tongue against Jensen’s a couple more times and then pulls away reluctantly.

“We should go somewhere more private,” the fairy says.

Jensen nods his agreement and Misha waves a hand before scooping Jensen into his arms and taking flight.

Jensen whoops and throws his arms out. “This is awesome!” he cries.

Misha chuckles darkly in his ear. “Wait until you get your wings,” he says. “There’s nothing better than mid-air sex.”

They land beside the fairy ring and Misha tugs Jensen toward it urgently.

“Wait!” Jensen says. “Can we…I’m not sure I’m ready to go, you know, there. Can we just go into the hayloft?”

“Of course.”

Misha picks him up again and flies them over to the barn and then up into the hayloft. He deposits Jensen on top of a pile of hay bales and then takes off his jacket and puts it down for Jensen to sit on. Jensen has barely sat down when Misha is pushing in between his legs and kissing him while pulling off Jensen’s shirt. Jensen attacks Misha’s and with a lot of pushing and pulling and grasping and grunting they manage to get each other naked.

“Lean back,” Misha says, and Jensen obeys, scooting his ass to the edge of the hay bale he’s sitting on and leaning back against the one behind him with his arms spread wide. His cock is hard and flushed and leaking against his belly and Misha looks at it greedily and then tips his head forward and sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Jensen gasps and spreads his legs wider.

Misha sucks cock like a pro, all tight wet heat, friction and pressure and a tongue that can do wicked, clever things. He deep throats Jensen and swallows and squeezes and just when Jensen thinks he’s going to come, he pulls off.

“No, no, no!” Jensen grabs at his arms. “Don’t stop. I need to come. Fuck, Misha. C’mon.”

Misha conjures a small pot out of thin air and then dips his fingers into it. Before Jensen can formulate a question the fairy has pulled his ass right off the edge of the hay bale and is pressing two oily fingers up inside of him. Jensen groans at the stretch.

“Too much?” Misha says.

“Feels good,” Jensen says.

And it really does. Misha knows what he’s doing, finger-fucking him slow and deep, opening him up, rubbing at his prostate until Jensen’s toes are curling and he’s begging Misha to fuck him before he comes.   

Misha hooks Jensen’s ankles over his shoulders and then the head of his cock is at Jensen’s entrance. It feels a lot bigger than Jensen was expecting. Misha pushes just the head inside and then pauses while Jensen adjusts to his girth.

“Fuck,” Jensen says. “You are _not_ proportional!”

Misha lowers his head to Jensen’s cock and Jensen marvels at his bendiness.

Misha suckles hard and tongues at the sensitive helmet. Jensen relaxes with a groan and then nearly arches off the hay bale when Misha drives in deep, bottoming out in one relentless thrust.

Misha relaxes his throat and takes Jensen in deep and Jensen isn’t really sure he can cope with this much pleasure. His ass is throbbing and burning, but all of his nerve endings are zinging with ecstasy too and he can do nothing but bury his fingers in Misha’s hair and hang on for dear life, not sure whether to rock up into his talented mouth or back onto his monstrous, thrusting cock.

He ends up doing both and it only takes half a dozen deep plunges into his ass to have Jensen coming with a yell, his brain whiting out at the intensity of his orgasm. Misha comes a couple of thrusts later and then wraps Jensen in both his arms and his wings and nuzzles against the side of his neck.

“Mine,” Misha says and it’s like someone has twisted a kaleidoscope inside Jensen’s brain.

Psychedelic colors and strange shapes burst across his mind’s eye. His senses are suddenly sharper and he can _feel_ Misha; can sense the very being of him, almost as though he’s tethered to him in some way.

Misha raises his head. “You can sense our bond,” he says, and Jensen can _feel_ his joy; can feel the depth of the fairy’s emotions, his delight at having shared the gift of pleasure with his soulmate, his deep desire for them to never be apart again.

It’s frightening and overwhelming and everything that Jensen has ever wanted.

“Please,” Misha begs. “Please come home with me.”

Jensen agrees that he will.

 

## ~X~

 

When Jensen tiptoes in through the Browns’ front door later that night, they’re waiting up for him.

“Had some phone calls,” Larry says, indicating to Jensen that he should take a seat at the kitchen table.

Jensen sits down with a lump in his throat. He’s leaving soon anyway, but it would be nice to leave on good terms.

“Are you alright,” Larry asks.

Jensen nods.

“We hear some fool boys tried to start trouble because you were on a date with a boy,” Larry says. “Is that true?”

Jensen nods again.

“Well,” Larry says. “We sure would like to meet this young man sometime. You feel free to bring him to the house. I’m gonna hit the hay,” Jensen blushes at Larry’s choice of words and Larry grins and pats him on the arm. “See you bright and early in the morning.”

“Larry?” Larry stops and turns. “Thank you. But, uh. I’m gonna be leaving soon. Misha’s asked me to move in with him and I know it’s early days, but, uh, it feels right.”

Larry nods and runs a hand over his moustache. “Can you give us a week?” he asks. “We’ll need to line up a new farmhand.”

Jensen doesn’t think that’s too much to ask.

Misha isn’t happy about it, but he understands. He even comes over for supper one evening, and is not only charming and entertaining, but also somehow manages to sidestep all the questions Jensen knows Brenda and Larry had lined up for him. Jensen suspects that magic was involved in that.

Jensen kisses his soulmate at the door and then floats back into the kitchen where Brenda is having a cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake. Larry has gone to bed.

“Did I ever tell you,” Brenda says, “that this is my family’s farm?”

“You didn’t.”

Jensen slides in opposite and prepares to listen to her story. They’ve found a farmhand to replace him, a kid from a local family who’ll be working for a proper wage rather than room and board and spending money. The new farmhand will be living at home and not with Brenda and Larry and Jensen knows Brenda’s going to miss him, even though he’s promised to come back and visit, so he’s willing to sit and listen to her stories whenever she wants, for as long as it takes.

“My family has always put cream out for the fairies,” she says, “we’d been doing it forever even when my grandma was a little girl, but it was my sister who told me she could actually see the fairies. Or one fairy in particular any way,” Brenda takes a sip of her tea. “She told me that he was her soulmate and that she was going to go and live with him in the Fae Realm. I didn’t believe her,” Brenda’s mouth twists. “And I didn’t want her to leave. I told her that if she ran away with a boy, she was dead to me.”

Brenda lifts her head and looks at Jensen with tears in her eyes. “When my sister told me that she’d met her soulmate, I noticed that her eyes had started to take on an almost unnatural looking glow. Just like yours have been doing this past week. Misha’s eyes have the same strange, ethereal glow to them. And just now, he seemed to get half way across our yard and vanish. So I’ve gotta ask, Jensen. Is he…is Misha…?”

She doesn’t seem able to finish the sentence, so Jensen just nods.

Brenda smiles then. She stands up and puts her plate and teacup in the sink before coming and putting a hand on his shoulder. “When you get there,” she says, “if you meet a woman called Samantha, please tell her that Brenda loves her deeply and would love to see her again.”

All Jensen can do is nod.

 

## ~X~

 

The Fae Realm is sort of like a clean, sparkly version of medieval England, with a stunning canopy of woodlands, a colorful carpet of wildflowers and a vast array of intelligent magical creatures.  There are babbling brooks with pretty stone bridges, grand white castles with turrets, and quaint little cottages with thatched roofs and trellises of jasmine.

Jensen had thought that the Fae would look down on him; a human interloper in their magical realm. But the Fae adore him.  Jared quickly becomes his best friend and Danneel…well, she’s sort of like his best friend too. Chris and Steve play the lute and sing together, performing happily for their friends. When they discover that Jensen has a good singing voice they invite him to perform with them and Jensen overcomes his dislike of calling attention to himself to honor their request. Jensen has always had a nice voice, but in the Fae Realm it has become truly magnificent.    

And Misha? Misha is still a quirky goofball, but his heart is pure. He doesn’t conform, he doesn’t follow rules and he’s completely lacking in tact, but he’s kind and he’s generous and he loves Jensen passionately.

The Fae, Jensen discovers, are very sexual beings. They like sex. A lot. And a lot of their religious ceremonies involve sex.  The first time Jensen went with Misha to Dance the Full Moon, he discovered that ‘dance’ is often a fairy euphemism for ‘fuck’. He’s getting sort of used to finding himself in the midst of impromptu orgies. He still won’t participate though; to Misha’s everlasting disappointment. The thing that really amazes Jensen is that there is no jealousy. Unmated fairies swing from partner to partner, enjoying each other but never making a commitment. Commitment is reserved for soulmates and once a fairy has found his or her soulmate they completely lose interest in all others.

And yes, it does seem to apply to human soulmates too. On his second day in the Fae Realm, Jensen met Flight Commander Jay Dee. Jay Dee (or Jeff, as he likes Jensen to call him) is exactly Jensen’s type. If he’d met him back in the Human Realm, Jensen may have tripped him up and then beaten him to the floor, so to speak. But here and now, he can feel no sense of attraction toward him.

Misha keeps him completely satiated anyway. Jensen does top on occasion, but they both prefer it when Misha fucks him. Jensen has always enjoyed being dominated in bed and Misha loves him so fiercely and Jensen trusts him so implicitly that he feels completely safe to indulge in that particular kink.

Samantha seeks him out, unable to resist the lure of someone who knows her sister. Jensen delivers Brenda’s message and then goes with Samantha to visit. They go during the day when Larry isn’t there, because there is no plausible explanation for why Brenda’s big sister still looks like an eighteen year old. Brenda is happy, in a bitter-sweet sort of way and just before Jensen follows Samantha through the portal he grasps Brenda’s hands and reminds her that she was lucky enough to meet her soulmate in the very same town she grew up in. She hugs him fiercely before letting him go.

Jensen has heard plenty of talk of Oracle Devine since he’s been a citizen of the Fae Realm, but it takes six months for him to actually meet her.

She intercepts him when he’s on his way back to his quarters after a visit with Danneel and his mouth falls open, because he recognizes her. She was his social worker for a while, back when he was thirteen and just starting to think he might be gay.

“You!’ he says. “Miss Loretta, right?” 

She grins, unrepentant, and wraps him in a motherly embrace. “Oh sweetheart,” she says. “It’s been hard, I know.” She pulls back and holds his face in her hands.  “You’ve always been ours. And we did what we could.” She places a chaste kiss on his forehead. “You and Misha, together? You’re destined for great things. And steel needs time in the fire to become truly strong.  Now,” she lets go of him and steps back. “You better get, because he’s waiting for you with his usual lack of patience, and the thoughts running through his head?” she shakes hers. “You’ve got a fun evening ahead of you.”

Jensen blinks at her. “We need to talk,” he says. But it won’t be now, because he can feel how horny Misha is through the bond and he’s rapidly getting just as hard and desperate. 

Oracle Devine hums non-commitally and Jensen turns and hurries toward his soulmate.

“Jensen?”

He turns to where the oracle is still standing, watching him pensively. “Welcome home, Sweetheart,” she says.

And yeah, Jensen thinks. He’s finally gotten some good luck.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Thanks to my artist Chef_Geekier for the inspiring art, to my beta reader 9Tiptoes without whom Jensen would be wearing gumboots, and to the SPN_Reversebang mods, for once again running this fabulous, fun challenge.


End file.
